“See? Not at all complicated, once you get your head round it, is it? All right, yes, the odds are stacked against you right from the start . . . but this is roulette we’re talking about.”
“So you can die right there at the table of old age, if you keep losing?” I said.
“Happens all the time,” said Frankie. “That’s part of the thrill of playing—to watch someone else check out, right next to you.”
“Is everyone here crazy?” I said, loud enough to turn several heads in my direction. “Why on earth would any sane person want to play a game like that?”
“This is Casino Infernale,” said Frankie. “The risk is part of the attraction. Sane people don’t normally come here.”
“How does the wheel work?” said Molly, tactfully changing the subject while I calmed myself down again.
Frankie shrugged. “Some kind of future tech. Fell off the back of the Nightside. Supposedly, it started out as some kind of medical technology, where a future doctor could give you extra years of life, topping you up as and when needed. Trust Casino Infernale to make a game of chance out of something intended to save lives. This roulette wheel is a game of life and death; but then, aren’t they all?”
“Don’t get smug,” I said, “or I will slap you a good one and it will hurt. Right here, in front of everyone.”
“Don’t blame the messenger for the message, boss,” said Frankie.
“I get to play, this time,” said Molly, very firmly. “You took all the risks before, even the ones you didn’t know about. Look at you, you’re still shaking. I won’t let you put yourself through that again.”
“I’m not arguing,” I said. “You’re right. I’m not in any shape to play sensibly.”
“Do you want to go back to our room and lie down?” said Molly.
“And leave you to play alone?” I said. “Not going to happen. Too many sharks in these waters. Besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on Frankie while he’s handling the money from the bets.”
“Well, really,” said Frankie. “Anyone would think you know me. . . .”
We wandered over to join the crowd round the roulette wheel. Just in time to see someone bet on Red twenty-one, and the ball jump into the slot at Black twenty. The whole crowd made a sound as though they’d been hit, and we all turned to look at the poor loser—a woman of a certain age in a dress and makeup far too young for her. Even the man she’d clearly come in with backed away from her, as though she’d suddenly become contagious. The woman shot him an angry look of betrayal, and then turned reluctantly back to face the croupier. He was smiling, and it was not a good smile. He held up a small hour-glass, and everyone around the table held their breath. The croupier turned the hour-glass over, and as the sands started falling, the woman grew older. Twenty-one years weighed down on her, cruelly and implacably. Her face wrinkled, and her body shrank in on itself, until an old woman stood beside the roulette wheel, weeping helplessly for her lost years. No one did anything, said anything, to help her. Most of those watching were smiling a smile very like that of the croupier. This was what they were there for. The old woman stumbled away from the table, and left the room. Alone.
I looked at the roulette wheel. “If it was up to me I’d smash that bloody thing into splinters . . . I don’t like this, Molly. Far too many random factors involved.”
“But if you win big here, you win really big,” said Frankie. “Extra years of life, handfuls of cash from the side bets, and major prestige. And it’s not like any of the other games are going to be that much easier, or fairer. Winning against the odds is the whole idea.”
“And we do have an edge, this time,” said Molly. “An edge that can’t be affected by any null zone. Remember the potion the Armourer gave us?”
“Remember it?” I said. “How could I forget? I’ll still be able to taste that muck when I’m dead and six months in my grave!”
“A potion to let us see the patterns in any game,” Molly said patiently. “Just looking at this game, I can sense the weight of the ball and the stresses in the wheel. All the patterns that decide where the ball turns up. I am pretty sure I can predict which number the ball will choose, every time. And since the potion is a part of our system, the Casino won’t be able to spot it, and the null can’t affect it.”
I looked at the roulette wheel, and she was right. I could see the patterns in the play, clear as day. Given the mechanical workings of the wheel, predicting the outcome was child’s play. It was like reading a pack of marked cards. I could feel the weight of responsibility sliding off my shoulders.
“Okay,” I said. “Go play, Molly. Have fun. Bet big, and take that smiling little croupier for everything he’s got. And Frankie, get the best odds you can from the crowd.”
“No problem,” said Frankie.
He moved off into the crowd, grinning and glad-handing everyone who didn’t run away fast enough, while Molly elbowed her way forward into a prize position at the side of the table. I hung back. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though anything could go wrong, this time. But I didn’t trust that feeling any more. People at the table realised they were standing next to the infamous wild witch Molly Metcalf, and quickly fell back to give her room. She smiled sweetly at the croupier, and exchanged a whole wad of money for a single chip to play with. The croupier smiled and nodded and went out of his way to flatter her, and Molly slapped him down with a single look.
People came hurrying forward from all over the room as the word spread that Molly Metcalf was playing roulette. Some clearly wanted her to win, some just as clearly wanted to see her lose hard, and most just wanted to see the wild witch in action. Frankie moved among them like a shark with his mouth open, taking them for everything they had. The people might admire Molly and her reputation, but no one believed she could beat the wheel.
Molly took her single chip and placed it firmly on Red twenty-one. Biggest bet you could make: twenty-one years of your life. One way or the other.
The croupier looked round the table. “Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen!”
Everyone played, but no one else wanted to place a chip beside Molly’s. The croupier spun the wheel, the ball went whirling round and round, clattering from place to place, and finally ended up in Black seventeen.
“No!” I said. “That’s not possible!”
No one paid me any attention. They were all looking at the small steel ball, and then at the young woman who’d just lost twenty-one years of her life. I was the only one there who knew just how wrong it was. Given that ball, in that wheel, there was no way it could have ended up in Black seventeen. Until I looked really hard—and saw the hidden mechanism behind the wheel. The croupier cheated.
Molly looked slowly around her. Everyone was backing away from her. Partly so none of her bad luck would rub off on them, partly so they could get a better look at what was about to happen. The croupier smiled at Molly, and held up his hour-glass. Molly looked coldly back at him.
“Do your damnedest. My sisters will avenge me.”
A shudder ran through the crowd at that, and even the croupier balked for a moment. The croupier had cheated, diverted the ball, and looking into Molly’s eyes, he knew that she knew. But who would believe her? I knew, but how could I prove it without revealing how I knew? Without revealing I was a Drood, and throwing away my mission?
I was here to prevent a war. To save who knew how many lives. I couldn’t risk my mission, just to save Molly from something she could probably undo herself, given time. She would understand. The croupier held up his hour-glass and waggled it in front of Molly, taunting her. And I reached for my Colt Repeater. Because no one messed with my Molly.